


Smelling Salts for All Democrats, Please!

by westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist



Category: The West Wing
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-11-19
Updated: 2002-11-19
Packaged: 2019-05-30 22:46:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15106385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist/pseuds/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist
Summary: Josh. Donna. Election Day.





	Smelling Salts for All Democrats, Please!

**Author's Note:**

> A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of the [ West Wing Fanfiction Central](https://fanlore.org/wiki/West_Wing_Fanfiction_Central), a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in the [announcement post](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/8325).

**Smelling Salts for All Democrats, Please!**

**by:** spitzthecat  


**Category/Pairing:** Josh/Donna  
**Written:** July 2, 2002  
**Rating:** ADULT for language  
**Disclaimer:** Not mine, never gonna be mine. Anything you recognize from pop culture isn't mine either. If it was, would I still be this deep in debt? Really, if you want my crappy ass job, truck payment and two emotionally disturbed cats you're welcome to them.  
**Summary:** 17th in the Joshua Monologues Series. Josh. Donna. Election Day. 

* * *

Tuesday, November 5, 2002.

Technically it is Tuesday. We've been working a last minute 'get out the vote' push for the past four days. My body still thinks it's Halloween. Anyway, it's 3 a.m. on Tuesday morning. Josh and Sam are putting the finishing touches on a giant dry erase map of the United States with projected outcomes of today's vote based on the latest polling numbers.

Blue for us, red for them and green for states that are in play. I'm looking at a lot of green.

The President and First Family are heading to New Hampshire in a couple of hours to vote. They are spending most of the day there before flying back here to wait with the rest of us.

Josh and Joey Lucas have built a phone bank next door to the War Room to monitor and conduct exit polling and to badger state party officials and individual precinct captains, if it comes to that. Toby, Sam and CJ will work the morning shows starting at 7 a.m.

Carol, Bonnie, Ginger, Margaret and I have each been assigned to monitor a TV network. I drew the CBS straw. Oh joy, Dan Rather. I doubt that will last long though, I'll be sidetracked into Josh-management before the polls even open in most states.

Leo is standing in the middle of the room looking around. Chaos reigns and the end-game hasn't even started yet. "Okay everybody!"

Pep talk time.

The only people here are the senior staff and senior assistants. We sent everyone, save a few interns, home to sleep and vote. The interns we sent upstairs three hours ago.

"I know you have all taken care of the important part of today. I know you have all mailed your absentee ballots."

"Oh, shit! I knew I was forgetting something." I can hear Josh pipe up from the other side of the room.

"JOSH!" Leo yells over the laughter.

He holds his hands up in mock surrender. "I'm joking. I'm joking!"

"Everybody find a spot of floor, get a couple hours sleep. Be up and ready by 6:30 a.m. I'm going to New Hampshire with the President. Josh, as much as this pains me, you're in charge until we get back. CJ and Toby, you're in charge of making sure he doesn't do anything stupid."

***

Donna and I head up to Toby's office to grab some shuteye. Spooning together, we barely fit on the narrow, yet comfortable couch.

"Nervous?" she asks.

I hug her tighter. "A little."

"We'll win," she informs me.

"You've been playing with Sam's Magic 8 Ball again, haven't you?"

"I went off the pill."

I hate it when she does that sudden conversation swerve thing. "What?"

"It took Pat six months to get pregnant after she stopped taking it."

I am not following this conversation. "Start over, Donna."

"I had my annual exam two weeks ago and talked to my gynecologist about how long it would take to get pregnant. You... you said you wanted kids." Her voice trembles slightly.

"Yeah. Kids. We're having like a case of them. Together. You just threw it out of left field a minute ago is all." I'm good with kids. I want kids. I want Donna to have my kids. Lots of kids.

"It takes a couple months or so to get pregnant after you stop taking the pill." Donna explains. "And we are not having a case of them."

**  
**

"So when is that?" I'm fried. I'm lucky I know today is Election Day, don't ask me to know the name of next month.

"January or February. Providing we have sex between now and then." She giggles into my t-shirt.

"So I guess we're not practicing anymore, are we?"

"Playing for real now, slugger," she murmurs.

The rigors of the past week overwhelm the news Donna just gave me and we both drift off to sleep.

***

"Miss Moss?"

A timid, young voice is trying to break through the web of warmth that surrounds me.

"Miss Moss?"

An insistent, timid, young voice.

"Donnatella!"

That voice is much closer to my ear. It is neither timid nor young and it is very annoying in its present tone. If he's going to wake me up by calling my name, I prefer the 'I wanna make love to you' Barry White voice.

"Mr. Lyman?"

That young, timid voice just got very, very squeaky. Not unlike a dog toy. I pry my eyelids apart to see a very new, very shocked intern standing in the doorway to Toby's office gawking at us. While Josh and I haven't hidden our relationship, we didn't take out an ad in the Washington Post either.

"Get up," he groans.

"You first."

"Ms. Cregg is looking for both of you." The intern, whose name is Debbie I think, is still squeaking. That has to stop.

"Go tell her we were both clothed when you found us," Josh orders, tossing the blanket on the floor, revealing us to be in the clothes we were wearing yesterday.

"Yes, sir." Debbie is very skittish. Everything intimidates her **.** The only reason I remember her name is she reminds me of myself at that age.

"We're here until 5?" I question, leading Josh towards his office. I stashed two overnight bags there with enough clothes for three days.

"Yeah. Then we move to the campaign headquarters over at the Willard. Bruno has everything set up identical to the War Room over here."

We find CJ, Sam and Toby outside the Press Room. CJ is putting on earrings preparation for her TV appearances. The guys are drinking coffee like it's going out of style.

"You two need to either to take out a billboard or stop scaring the interns," CJ admonishes with a twinkle in her eye.

"Actually, I thought we'd go shower," Josh purrs, snaking one hand around my waist.

Toby cracks a smile for the first time in days at the horrified look on CJ's face. "You walked right into that."

Josh smirks at her for a moment before softening his smile. "Polls open in most of the eastern states in 15 minutes. I should start getting exit polling around 8. We're going to do this, guys, but it's going to be tight. Be positive out there."

We all nod, cautious optimism - the watchwords for the day.

***

The 'senior assistant TV news monitoring crew' has recruited a brigade of interns to back us up so we can leave as we are needed.

It's about 7:30, still in the midst of the morning shows, when Josh suddenly barks from the phone bank. "Somebody turn the damn Weather Channel on! Now!"

I flip from CBS to TWC. Oh, no. They're airing a live picture from Bismarck, North Dakota. The screen shows nothing but solid white with a bar that says 'Live in Bismarck, ND.' Silence descends on the War Room when I crank the volume.

"State forecasters are expecting the winds to pick up and visibility to drop to zero by noon today. In the outlying, rural areas most roads are already impassable. 20 inches of snow is expected to fall across the state by 7 o'clock local time tonight."

Josh picks up a phone, waving for me and Margaret. "Call these guys," he hands us a stack of names and phone numbers of North Dakota precinct captains. "Tell them to encourage people to get out and vote early. I don't care if they have to get voters to the polling places on dog sleds. It's going to make the difference when North Dakota is a fucking disaster area."

We nod and grab phones.

"Bonnie!" he hollers for her attention. "Go get CJ and Toby. Get them down here now!"

***

I hang up the phone after talking to the state party chair. He assures me this could work for us. Most of the state's Democrats live in the cities, where the roads will still be passable for a few more hours. They are working the phones and while turnout will be extremely light, hopefully most of it will be for us.

Toby and CJ materialize together, looking pissed off. 

"You've got two minutes, this better be good," Toby growls.

"There's a freak blizzard pounding North Dakota that nobody saw coming," I point towards the TV we've dedicated to The Weather Channel. The screen is still solid white, only now it's showing Minot.

"A freak blizzard? In North Dakota? Josh, why do I care about this?" CJ demands, glancing at her watch.

"What are you doing?" Toby stares at the television.

"Trying to get the vote out early. Before the Department of Transportation closes the state down. "

"Odds?" He is terse. We were counting on a good showing in the upper Midwest to balance Ritchie's strength in the Southwest.

"In our favor." As I say that, something Leo said early this morning comes back to me. 

"Josh?" 

I barely register CJ's voice and ignore her to pick the phone up again to call the state guy back. If this works, we'll take North Dakota. I have a gut feeling that North Dakota is going to be the deciding factor and I don't know why.

***

Joey Lucas is running the exit polling data through me, since Josh has focused on the North Dakota Blizzard from Hell and his premonition. All the rural roads in the state were closed by 10 a.m. Josh claims he has a plan. 

The only thing he'll tell anyone, including Toby and Bruno, is that North Dakota is a fucking disaster area.

It looks like our estimates are pretty accurate. The Northeast is ours from Maine to Pennsylvania. Ritchie has a lock on the Southeast, although Florida is still in play. The Ohio River Valley looks like somebody splattered random colors on it and the Midwest isn't any better.

We threw the key away on California a long time ago and despite the President's dislike of green beans, Oregon will probably fall in line as well. Washington is ours; Idaho is not. Montana, Wyoming, Colorado and Utah lean to Ritchie with New Mexico. Arizona ought to be ours.

It's noon before I realize I haven't had breakfast yet.

***

It's 3 p.m. in DC making it 2 p.m. in North Dakota. The Governor just closed down the state and declared a state of emergency. He's mobilizing the National Guard to find stranded motorists and imposing at 3 p.m. curfew. The forecast of 20 inches has been revised to 28 inches by nightfall and 36 inches by the morning.

We hadn't called the Governor, who is a Republican, for fear of the appearance of impropriety. Now that he's shut the state down, it's safe for the President to call him and offer federal assistance. 

"North Dakota is a fucking disaster area! Can we get somebody from the National Weather Service down here to explain this to me?" I demand of the room at large. "Where in the hell does 3 feet of snow come from without anybody noticing it's on the way?"

Donna shoots me a glare from the map where she's scribbling down exit poll data. 

"Please." I add, contritely. 

***

"What the hell is going on?" Leo bursts into the War Room.

"North Dakota is a fucking disaster area," the entire staff choruses. I might have said that a few too many times today.

"North Dakota has 3 electoral votes, Josh, and hasn't gone to a Democrat since Johnson in 1964!" Leo rips into me. 

I'm standing with Donna in front of the map. I hate it when I'm right, this is going to be the closest election in a hundred years.

***

Josh can barely balance his checkbook and he sure as hell can't tell time. So, I do not understand how he can do electoral math in his head, the freak.

Leo cuts his tirade short when he sees what we're looking at. "Ritchie's going to give us a run for our money."

"Maybe, but I've got a plan. We're going to win this thing, Leo."

"I've got a thousand dollars that it goes to the House," he replies softly, so no one else can hear him.

"You're on." Josh is supremely confident.

***

At 5 o'clock we shut down the War Room and move to campaign headquarters at the Willard Hotel, a couple blocks up the street. Bruno is in charge here and there's not much we can really do except wait.

When we get there, I force Josh to eat for the first time all day. He's wound tighter than a tick.

By six, Bruno is a half a step from ripping his throat out. He doesn't share Josh's belief that North Dakota is the all-important key. He's busy focusing on Florida, Ohio and Texas. Three states Josh and Leo wrote off a week ago.

"Josh, come with me," I take him by the arm and bodily drag him away from yet another argument with Bruno and Doug. 

"Donna!" He starts to object when I plant him in an easy chair in front of my TV. I'm still watching CBS. He stops objecting when I crawl onto his lap, effectively trapping him in the chair. Debbie, the intern I adopted, stares at me like I've grown two heads.

"Sit down and shut up," I instruct.

"Can we at least have a couch?"

CJ and Toby wander over and sit down on the floor. "Will you quit with the bitching?" CJ shakes her head at him.

Fifteen minutes of forced inactivity will either put Josh to sleep for a couple of hours or make him worse.

***

It's 7:30, another hour and a half until the polls start to close. Our data show nobody getting 270 and this thing going to the House of Representatives. It doesn't include North Dakota because all nonessential, nonresidential power is off there. When the polls close, they'll have to count the ballots by hand. Bruno is giving those 3 electors to Ritchie on historical precedent.

That makes it 269 for Ritchie, 268 for us. 

In an effort to take our minds off the waiting, CJ starts asking about the wedding. I've been a little preoccupied to help with the planning. Donna put her mother in charge of almost everything. I was instructed to find 4 groomsmen by Thanksgiving and to be prepared to have a prenuptial discussion with the officiating minister.

I have a best man. 

Donna has a maid of honor, CJ, and three bridesmaids, Zoey Bartlet, Margaret and her sister Pat.

I have Sam.

***

By eight, Josh is badgering Bruno again. Leo pulls me aside and hands me a room key. 

"This is to the Presidential suite next door," he whispers. "I don't care what you do to him, but calm him down. The President and First Lady are coming over here to mingle for an hour or so."

Josh and Doug are going toe to toe over Texas. They've drawn quite a crowd of people who have nothing better to do than watch Josh destroy Doug. Something we've all wanted to do for a long time.

I hate to interrupt the fun, but I have my orders. Worming through the gathered spectators, I finally reach the center. Once there, I grab Josh by the tie and drag him out the door.

"Hey!" He protests, but follows. That could have to do with the fact that I still have his tie in my hand.

The two suites share a wall, but not a door. We run into the President and Mrs. Bartlet on our way. "Everything under control, Donna?" The glint in the President's eye tells me he knows exactly what my orders are.

"Yes, sir."

***

Donna opens the door to the President's private suite and pushes me in ahead of her. Slamming the door shut, she wraps her arms around my waist. "You need to calm down."

She's using her seductive voice. 

Any response I might have made is lost to the kiss she presses to my lips. I can feel it deep in my soul. When she finally releases me, it's only to lead me to the bed.

The President's bed.

"What are we doing here?"

"Leo gave me the key and told me to calm you down."

I smirk, making short work of my tie and shirt. "He did, did he?"

"We have an hour." Donna is naked in a flash. "Lie down."

Kicking the rest of my clothes off, I do as I am told. "There's something slightly disturbing about this."

"Roll over." She instructs, straddling my hips.

An involuntary groan escapes me when Donna begins kneading my rock hard shoulders. Five minutes under her ministrations has something else rock hard and I'm groaning for different reasons. I don't know how she knows the difference, but her lips immediately replace her fingers. Gentle kisses meander down my spine.

***

The tension flows from Josh's body when my lips touch his skin. Moving down his back, I take the time to properly appreciate the cutest butt in politics. More moaning.

I love the moaning.

I start kissing the sensitive flesh on his sides, the moans deepen and Josh rolls himself onto his back. I run my fingers up his chest, gasping when he cups my breasts in his own hands.

"We're playing for real?"

I nod my head, which is now buried between his legs, kissing his inner thighs.

"Turn around," he pleads. "I want to taste you."

I slide up, running my entire body over Spongebob.

***

My hips buck at the friction Donna creates when she moves up my body. She stops to give me a quick kiss.

"You, Joshua Lyman, are going to lie there and calm down," she teases.

"I'm anything but calm, Donnatella."

She's sucking on my neck, so I can sneak a hand between her legs to touch her. I'd prefer a taste, but a feel will do. Without stopping what she's doing, Donna reaches down and bats my hand away.

"I can't concentrate when you do that."

"I'm supposed to not do anything?"

"You're supposed to relax." She's straddling my chest now; I can feel how excited she is. Placing a kiss on the tip of my nose, she starts her way back down my body. This time she pays special attention to my scars. 

The surgical scar isn't so noticeable anymore, but the entry wound still is. I'm starting to regain sensation there, so when Donna plants open-mouthed kisses there, I can feel the tickle of her tongue.

At my hips, she begins to lightly massage me again. She works all around my groin, never actually touching Spongebob, Gary or Patrick. I need her to touch me.

"Donna, please," I whine.

Instead of giving into me, she moves further down my legs, stopping at my feet. Her capable hands begin to rub first one, and then the other. The only tension left in my body is sexual.

***

The foot rub does nothing to lessen his sexual needs, but pretty much eliminates the desire to disembowel Doug.

"I need you," he tells me when I stretch out on top of him. This time when he initiates a kiss, I let him. We stay like this for a long time, just kissing. Good, old-fashioned tonsil hockey. We've both backed off from the edge a bit, but when Josh takes my breast in his mouth, I can feel my muscles tighten in anticipation.

He sits up, inviting me to crawl onto his lap, leaning against his bent knees. Placing my feet on the bed, I lift up enough for him to sink into me. 

We start slow, a leisurely indefinite pace. By arching my back against his legs, I guide him into the exact spot. Josh reaches between us, mimicking our rhythm with his fingers against my clit.

I could do this forever. 

***

I can feel the build of my climax. Trying to keep the pace slow, I opt for deeper and longer strokes. Donna gasps a bit at the first one, but is quickly breathing heavier as well. She can't be far off either.

It's cliched, but it's like an explosion when I come. You can probably hear me screaming Donna's name at the Ritchie campaign in Florida.

***

Josh quickens his fingers a when he climaxes. Before he's done, I've started. I try to restrain myself a little bit, knowing everybody and their brother is on the other side of that wall. Josh has no such inhibitions.

I relax against his knees, closing my eyes for a moment. Deep down I wonder what Josh is really thinking as he lies there on his back, sweaty and satisfied.

***

I reach for Donna's hand. The left one, with the ring I gave her on it. Our fingers entwine in a moment of calm amidst the uncertainty that fills the day. In five months this woman will be my wife. With any kind of luck, within a year, this woman will be the mother of my child. In this moment of calm, I promise myself that they will always be my priority.

"I love you," I whisper so softly I doubt she heard me.

Opening her eyes, she smiles at me. 

***

My smile reflects back in Josh's eyes, bright with an emotion I've never seen before.

"What?" Curiosity overwhelms me.

His fingers squeeze mine. "Just thinking."

"About what?" I press, leaning forward to snuggle against his chest.

"Us. The future."

"We're going to win tonight."

"No. Our future, our family."

Josh surprises me every once in a while. This is one of those times. My reply is cut short by a ringing cellphone. Josh takes the call and I slip into the bathroom to clean up. He finishes his call before I get dressed again. 

Joining me, he tries to look annoyed by the large hickey I left in plain sight on his neck. We're usually pretty careful to leave those in places nobody else will see.

***

It's about 8:45 when we return to the other room. To a round of applause and calls of 'Oh my God, Donna!' Guess the walls aren't as soundproof as I thought they were.

I might die of embarrassment. CJ makes a huge production out of the hickey on my neck, making sure Sam gets pictures of it for the campaign scrapbook. 

"Calmer?" Leo smirks at me when I drop the key in his lap. 

"You're funny."

***

The fun ends when every network goes on the air at 9 o'clock.

The early returns favor us: Maine, New Hampshire, Vermont, Massachusetts, all of New England and the Mid-Atlantic states go for Bartlet. We're up 109 to nothing by 9:30 p.m.

10 p.m. brings the next wave of poll closings and solid predications for the South. The lead totters back and forth as they call states. Bruno's camp groans when they call Ohio for Ritchie. Texas falls next. At 10:45, it's a 26-vote gap. Ritchie is up 198 to 172.

That's when I finally start listening to the crap that's coming out of Dan Rather's mouth. 

"Ritchie swept through the South like a tornado through a trailer park."

What the hell?

I'm mentally reviewing what's left out there when they finally call Florida for Ritchie at 11:45. 

Ol' Dan says it for me. "The big burrito is still out there in California. So, don't bet the trailer money yet."

What is this guy's fascination with trailer parks? California is 54, Oregon and Washington another 18. That should close the gap a bit. Ritchie's sitting at 246. We haven't budged since 10:15.

That changes at midnight when the polls finally close on the West Coast. The big three and a straggling Michigan extinguish the gap. We're sitting tied at 266 with 6 electoral votes left out there: Montana and North Dakota.

"This race is as tight as the lug nuts on a '57 Ford!"

"Donna, this guy is killing me," I whine.

She and Debbie have gone mad listening to it. "You missed some of the best ones, Josh! Debbie, tell him what he missed." She sounds like a game show sidekick.

The squeaky little intern pulls out a notepad. "There was: 'this race is tight like a too small bathing suit on a too long ride home from the beach'; 'It's about as complicated as a wiring diagram to some dynamo.'" She looks up at me and grins before continuing. "My personal favorite so far 'smelling salts for all Democrats, please' when they called California."

"Enough!"

***

In a fluke, Montana comes in 12:15 a.m. for Bartlet. 

"Well, folks the only thing left out there is North Dakota. The delay is in the hand-counting of ballots by state election officials."

At 1 a.m., they start to get preliminary reports out of the more populous precincts. That's about the time they get a live interview with Dave Tillman, the chairman of the North Dakota Democratic Party. Dave explains that he and his people have been out all day, delivering absentee ballots to people who called their county auditor and requested one, then returning the ballots to the auditors' offices. He even drove a bunch of people to their polling places on his snowmobile. Everything they did was cleared through the Secretary of State's office, the very Republican Secretary of State.

Yeah, those absentee ballots are amazing things, aren't they?

It is an hour later when they call North Dakota and its three electoral votes for Josiah Bartlet; giving us 272 electoral votes and sealing our reelection.

***

The cheer that erupts from the room is deafening. Josh is doing some sort of very bizarre victory dance in the center of the room, while being mobbed by the staff.

***

Donna vaults from the chair she's been in and launches herself into my arms. "You did it!" she screams.

I did indeed.

Sam wraps his arms around both of us. "Absentee ballots, Josh? That was the plan?"

"Don't knock it, baby!"

Bartlet puts Ritchie's concession call on speakerphone. He sounds pissed as hell that they didn't think of it first, but congratulates Bartlet on a hard-fought victory. 

We won the popular vote by just over a million votes, in case you care.

Next: "Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade of Giblets" 

"Well, I've never actually cooked a turkey before."


End file.
